


dull blade in the yellow light

by inkstainedwarrior



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: I just wanted sweet soft boys, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 20:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13372392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwarrior/pseuds/inkstainedwarrior
Summary: His eyes swayed upwards, holding on to that butterscotch mop of hair splayed over the pillow. It glowed in the moonlight, a beacon of all that Damen desired screaming in the dark. With a reluctant hand, Damen pressed forward, his fingers grazing the soft ends of a lion’s mane.“What,” Laurent started, his voice heavy with sleep as he caught Damen’s hand. “Do you think you’re doing?”





	dull blade in the yellow light

The only time Laurent looked at peace was in his sleep. But then again, Damen thought, peace would be a stretch. There was nothing peaceful about the Prince – from his rigid yet commanding stance, to his forever searching blue eyes – Laurent always looked ready to pounce. Even during those restful hours, he still held a sense of unease. At first Damen thought it had everything to do with his presence, and that would be wise, given their league of differences. But a lot had changed between them since that first night spent on the floor of a tent. For one, the sharing of a bed, and for another, the hours spent making love in it.

Damen’s eyes lingered on Laurent’s languid form barely touching the mattress atop the covers. In the many nights spent studying the subject of his affection he’d come to the understanding that this was simply how it was. Long limbs tangled in sheets – but not so tangled that he couldn’t extricate himself with ease and urgency. Feet towards the door, head towards a wall and his eyelids faintly touching, waiting to spring open and catch the source of his terror red-handed.

Though he didn’t look peaceful, he did look natural, like how one would think him outside the duplicitous palace he called home. The lines on his face softened, most noticeably around the eyes and mouth, betraying the possibility for happiness that only few could confirm. It gave him an angelic appearance. Sweetmeats could not sour in his mouth.

His eyes swayed upwards, holding on to that butterscotch mop of hair splayed over the pillow. It glowed in the moonlight, a beacon of all that Damen desired screaming in the dark. With a reluctant hand, Damen pressed forward, his fingers grazing the soft ends of a lion’s mane.

“What,” Laurent started, his voice heavy with sleep as he caught Damen’s hand. “Do you think you’re doing?”

Not ashamed of being caught, Damen shook his hand free and continued his previous ministrations. “Appraising you.”

“And what conclusion have you drawn?” Laurent allowed himself one betrayal, a prefect brow, elegantly quirked.

“Hmm…” Damen mused, his fingers lifting and dropping silk strands from Laurent’s head. “You are starting to look fit for the kennels, not a palace.”

“Afraid I’ll turn rabid and bite?” A surreptitious smile began to spread behind a hard pressed line, threatening to curve Laurent’s lips.

“Are you not already?” Damen ducked, his words being met with the full force of a feathered pillow to the face. He felt the laugh begin to bubble in his throat. A sorely missed sensation.

“This will not do,” Laurent responded, pulling himself from the sheets, his feet hitting the floor with a fierce determination.

The laugh simmered as he watched the Prince move away, a feeling of unease setting in with each step Laurent took away from the bed. It was like watching a predator prowl, toying with its prey before finally pouncing and ending the suspenseful game. Damen knew not to get too familiar, that doing so was like caging a wild beast in the hopes of training it for a pet. Laurent, like a lion, would not sit docile at a master’s foot. Would not preen and mewl like other pets did. This ferocity, especially when mixed with Laurent’s particular brand of tenacity, was both utterly terrifying and horrendously arousing.

A golden glimmer drew Damen’s eyes from the face of his wild creature and to the object he had in hand. A dagger. Small and slender. His heart rate rose. Daggers were personal, requiring close proximity and a degree of dexterity to take down a man of his size. And he had no doubt whatsoever that Laurent was proficient in the latter.

Laurent’s lips quirked into the ghost of a smile as he began his approach, the blade nestled precariously between fingertips. Twisting. Twisting. Twisting. Damen swore the Prince could hear his heartbeat, clearer than thunder it pulsed, reverberating off his ribcage and through the hollow of this throat. Prey cornered, preparing its defence.

“Attend me,” Laurent whispered, his face next to Damen’s, blade extended towards him.

“What?” Damen, not yet quite comprehending.

“A Prince simply cannot go about looking like a dog now, can he?” He moved away again, pulling a chair up by the lantern, and took a seat, waiting for his slave to attend him. Damen swallowed. Hard. Though he was a fine swordsman, his skills were limited to the realms of maiming and killing, and neither of those would come in handy whilst styling a royal family members hair.

“I don’t…” he started, but Laurent interrupted with an obtrusive clicking of the tongue. He took a breath. Deep and heavy, and should this not pan out, his last.  
The blade itself was dull at the edges, as though forgotten about until this very moment. Or perhaps designed purely for show. Of course Laurent wouldn’t hand him a sharp blade, but then, a blade needn’t be sharp to be effective, if wielded by the right man.

For a second time that evening, Damen allowed his hands to run over the glistening silk of Laurent’s natural crown. So soft and light, and entirely deserving of a hand more skilled than his own. With reluctance he bought the blade to the end of Laurent’s long, luscious hair and began to slice. At first the cuts were small and delicate, a toddler taking his first steps, testing for stability before charging full speed. Flaxen flakes flitted to the ground, pooling around and over Damen’s dark feet, catching and throwing the light as they drifted. Strand after strand fell, golden yarn dancing to the rhythm of the blade and the harmony of the room.

Intimacy had never been a strong suit of Laurent’s, it was never doled out to those amongst his staff and his friends. Whispers of the idea that he could be intimate lingered in the shared memory of Auguste and the absence he left in the young Prince’s heart. But here, in the waning yellow light, intimacy found a new home in the form of a dull blade in an Akielon slave’s hand. Damen could feel the weight of it, let it sit heavy on his chest. Tonight Laurent laid his life and humility in Damen’s lap, trusted in nimble fingers and a barely hidden affection. Tonight Laurent let his walls down, only to let Damen in.

“Well, how is it?” Laurent quipped, dragging Damen from his semi-focused reverie. Before he could respond, Laurent was out of the chair and seeking a reflective surface. “Not quite the Veretian style.” He mused, running his fingers through the much shorter style, taking in the cut from all angles.

“It wasn’t exactly the Veretian style beforehand either,” Damen lowered his eyes to the blade in is hand. Small, gold and blunt. Much like its owner, he thought before sitting it on the chair Laurent had previously occupied.

“That is true.” And then Damen saw it, though it was for a mere second, Damen saw a genuine smile flicker across the Prince’s face, their eyes catching in the reflective glass. “You’ve done all right.”

The first awakenings of dawn began to seep through the window as Laurent made his way to Damen, rewarding him for his hard work with a single, soft kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for suffering with me through my first foray into fic in like... a bazillion years. If you'd like more top notch quality (that definitely wasn't finished and proofread at 4am) like this, you can find me as vaskianwarrior.tumblr.com


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